My Brother the Monster
by MagicalMysteryPhantom
Summary: A girl's experience with the Phantom of the Opera. Kind of Musical.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera. I own Jamie and her father, I sort of own Remus, and I own Jamie's kids. I don't think there's anyone else I own.

 **MY**

 **BROTHER**

 **THE**

 **MONSTER**

I stood on the street, singing for money. I hoped that if I got enough francs I could sail to America. Maybe life would be better there.

A very pretty lady walked by. She turned to my singing, then screamed and ran. I sighed. It would always be that way.

My name is Jamie, Jamie Redwood. My mother is French, my father is American. My mother had divorced a man I never knew, and remarried to Alan Redwood, a sailor she had met. After I was born, she declared that she was tired of producing ugly children. It's true, I was born with a face disfigurement. I have a scar that goes straight down the right side of my face. I walk to a street to sing every morning, then I go home every night. When business is slow, I like to watch the progress of an Opera house being built on that street. It's almost finished, and it looks magnificent.

One day while singing, a man in a hooded cloak walked by.

"Hello, Monsieur." I said.

He slowly turned to face me. I drew back in surprise. Though a scarf covered most of his face, I could still see his eyes. His deep eyes. His black eyes. His empty-like-tunnels-but-very-sad eyes. His eyes that looked _exactly like mine._

"What an odd looking girl." He murmured, his voice smooth and melodious. "How old are you?"

The man asked suddenly, with what sounded like suspicion in his voice, "And what is your name?"

I stood as straight as I could.

"Jamie Redwood, Monsieur. Eight years old, Monsieur."

I looked into his eyes and became dizzy. I couldn't tear my eyes away from his. From far off I heard the man say, "It can't be. She has an American name." He turned away. I blinked, and he was gone. I looked down.

There were twelve francs in my hat.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Two years later

I sneaked into the dark Opera house. I zipped through the halls. The Opera house was really amazing. Mother had never brought me, though she had been many times. I sat down in one of the velvet chairs, and imagined an opera was happening. The girls danced, the singers sang, the-

Someone grabbed me from behind.

I opened my mouth to scream and a gloved hand covered it. The hand smelled odd, it reminded me of . . . of. . . . _Death._

" _What_ are you doing here!?" My captor said in a threatening voice. I started. It was the man! I silently vowed not to look into his eyes. "M-Monsieur! I-it's me! Jamie Redwood!" He loosened his grip. "Ah, yes." He said. "The odd little girl."

I took a deep breath.

"Stay here for tonight." He said. "It will not be safe in your house." The strange man beckoned for me to follow him. He led me to a small closet. "I will come and get you in about four hours." Said the man. He walked out. The lock clicked behind him. I sat on a box for several long minutes, still trying to register what had just happened. As I sat, fear crept into me. I had heard tales of a ghost that haunted the Opera house, wandering around with a death's head. What if this was the Opera Ghost? What if he starved me in here, or worse? Or haunt me for the rest of my life, because that's just what ghosts do, right?

I suddenly realized that he had touched me. Ghosts aren't solid. I relaxed, sort of disappointed. It would have been cool to be the Opera ghost's prisoner. He could still be starving me, though. "I wonder whats happening at my house tonight?" I said out loud. "Maybe someone will die." Smirking, I lay down to sleep.

I didn't know how close I was to the truth.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Four years later

"JAMIE!" Yelled Alan Redwood. "COME HERE!"

I sighed. Ever since mother had mysteriously died that night four years ago, father had taken to drinking. I assumed he was trying to trade me again. Or his imaginary cat. I trudged into the other room of our two room shack. "See?" Said father. "She comes when called, and she can sweep better than anyone in all of Paris!"

His scruffy companions nodded thoughtfully. Empty bottles littered the floor.

A much cleaner boy, probably about seventeen or eighteen, was sitting in a corner. He

Was wearing an expensive looking suit, and he didn't look drunk. That surprised me, seeing as everyone else was.

His eyes met mine.

The boy winked at me.

I glared at him.

He looked taken aback for a moment, but then he grinned and quietly slipped out of the shack.

I was boiling mad. I didn't want some random boy after me! I wanted to be free! Maybe boys wouldn't fall for me if I wiped off my make-up.

I barely heard father say,"Awright, Joe, you can have 'er, but let's see tha' horse first."

I suddenly noticed that Joseph Buquet was looking at me with a sort of hunger in his eyes. Now I was really starting to freak out.

Just then, there was a sharp rap on the door.

Grumbling, father got up and opened it.

Three police barged in, followed by the smirking boy.

Then I fainted.

I opened my eyes to find myself in the neighbor's house.

"Get up," Said Madame I-can't-be-bothered-to-remember-her-name, "If you want to stay here, you have to earn your keep."

"But where's my father?" I asked, confused.

"Why, he's been sent to prison," Said Madame Whatever-her-name-was. She was still talking, but I wasn't listening. I was trying to restrain myself from jumping for joy.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Four years later

"Come in."

Nervously I walked into the managers' office. The plaque on the front of the door read:

M. Poligny

Another plaque beneath it read:

M. Debienne

"Well, Jamie, we have come-" M. Poligny started.

"We?" I interrupted. "I thought M'sieur Debienne had died!"

"He had." Said M. Poligny, looking slightly perturbed at being interrupted."But his son decided to carry on with the business." For the first time since I entered the room, I noticed another man in the office. A familiar, well dressed young man.

He winked at me.

I glared at him.

"Yes, this is Remus Debienne." Said M. Poligny. "Rather young, but he has finished school. . . ."

I was amazed.

How could such a stupid boy become a manager of the beautiful Opera house?

"As I was saying, Miss Redwood, you have procured a job. A job that would enable you to live here."

I stayed silent.

"You are hired."

"As what?" I burst out.

"As a maid." Said M. Poligny, smiling.

I nearly groaned with disappointment. Why, why must I be a maid? I would have accepted any other job position! I bet M. Poligny was enjoying this.

"Your salary will be eight francs a day," He continued, "And Joseph Buquet will show you to your living quarters. You are dismissed."

Buquet did show me to my living quarters. As we walked, I wondered why the managers couldn't get anyone better than Buquet. Did they know how incredibly stupid he is? In front of me, he stopped walking. Unfortunately, I didn't.

That resulted into a very awkward incident.

After we had untangled ourselves from the butler, Buquet showed me down a staircase.

And another.

And another.

Eventually we ended up at a small closet.

A small, familiar closet.

A closet that had tons of stuff in it, with a small, cheap bed in the middle.

I regretted ever coming to work here.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Two years later (almost)

"Hannibal COMES!"

I put my earplugs in and kept dusting. I wish I could kill Carlotta. Sadly, if I did I would lose my job.

"Ladies and Gentleman, sadly, M'sieur Debienne and I are retiring."

I gasped. M. Poligny and Remus Debienne were retiring? I just start to like Remus, and

he goes and retires? This is uncalled for!

"And here are the new managers of the Opera house, M'sieur Firmin, and M'sieur Andre!"

I clapped along with everybody else. I hope they have an epic fail.

"And we are continuing with the original patrons, the Count Philippe de Chagny, and the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny." Announced M. Andre.

More applause.

"And now," Said M. Poligny, "We shall hear from Madame Carlotta Guidicelli- our lead soprano!"

Carlotta positioned herself. The music started.

"Think of me," She sang, "Think of me fondly," I saw a shadow slip backstage. "When we've said goodbye, imagine me, once in a while, please promise me you'll try. When you find, that once again you long, to take your-"

The whole set was falling on Carlotta!

I was laughing so hard, I nearly fell out of Box 5, where I was assigned to clean. Joseph Buquet was yelling something about a ghost, and Carlotta was yelling about not singing again, while storming out. I had started doing a victory dance when I heard Madame Giry say:

"I have a message, sir, from the Opera Ghost."

I stopped dancing and looked up. She was talking to M. Firmin. "He welcomes you to his Opera house-"

" _His_ Opera house?!" Interrupted M. Firmin. Madame Giry glared at him, then went on.

"Commands that you leave _Box 5_ empty for his use, and reminds you that his salary is due."

"His salary?!" M. Firmin practically yelled.

I'd had enough. I wasn't going to sit around and listen to them talk. Out in the lobby, I distantly

Heard someone say, "Christine Daae could sing it, sir." "Oh no!" I said out loud. The butler gave a rather dirty look. I ignored and walked to my room. I hated Christine- and a lot. Here is my list of people I want dead: Carlotta; Piangi; Meg(she's so annoying); Father; and Christine.

I reached my closet and turned to sit on my bed.

But there was somebody already sitting on it.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

A man in a mask was sitting on my bed. He had a sword in his belt.

"Are you going to murder me?" I asked, feeling nervous/scared/excited. The man stood up and threw his hands up into the air. "Why does everybody think that!?" The man asked angrily.

"So. . . If you're not going to kill me, then what are you doing in my room?!" Now I was angry.

"You call this a room?" He snorted.

"What are you doing here?!" I demanded.

"Well, I guess, um, business first. Well, you've done a good job in Box 5."

"Wait, isn't that the Ghost's Box?" I asked, my excitement mounting.

"yes, it is my Box." The man replied. "I made the set fall on Carlotta. I demand Box 5 every Opera night, and I demand 20,000 francs every month."

I stared in awe.

"Aarrgghh!" Yelled the man. "Now you know to much! Now you must come with me, whether you like it, or not!" I started to think that this man was unstable.

"Wait, what were you here for in the first place?" I asked. The Phantom mumbled something incomprehensible. "What was that?"

He sighed. "I was here to offer you a room. In my house."

I stared in awe. Again.

"You won't believe me when I tell you this," He began, "But I-I am your brother." "Yeah, very funny." I laughed. "This must be some joke. Very funny!"

"No! It's not a joke! I truly am your brother!" He almost pleaded. "Prove it." I said.

"First wipe off your make-up." The Phantom commanded. "I don't have any make-up on." I lied.

"Yes, you do."

I sighed and wiped it off. "Much better." He said. I noticed that he didn't wince. He rummaged in his pocket for a few seconds, then pulled out a black half mask. "Here you go." The mask looked like his, just cut in half.

"What about you?" I said. "What about me?" He replied, confused.

"Show me your face."

"You shall never see Erik's face." He said. "Why are you suddenly speaking in third person?" I asked, but he wasn't listening.

The man (whose name we now know is Erik) dragged me over to the back wall and pulled a nail. I shut my eyes, and when I opened them, we were on the other side.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

As we walked down a dark tunnel, I confronted Erik.

"Tell me of your past," I said, my arms folded, "So I can see if I trust you." Erik sighed. "You want to know everything?"

"Everything." I repeated. We walked in silence for a few minutes. I was about to turn to him again when he started talking.

"I was born with a horrible disease, a disease that wrecks your entire body. My mother screamed when she saw me and presented a mask for my first piece of clothing. My father never saw my face. I would sing in the shadows, and people would beg for me to come out, so they could see the wonderful face that went with the wonderful face." His tone was bitter, and dripping with sarcasm.

"One day, the freak show was in town. I joined it. People paid money to see the three eyed man, the bearded lady, Erik the living skeleton boy, and many others. Eventually, I left to a better paying circus. There I learned many tricks, such as ventriloquism, and a fortune teller told me my name- Erik. I was a good architect, and became famous. My fame reached the Shah of Persia, who hired me to build him a beautiful palace, one which the likes of had never been seen before. I obeyed. After the palace had been completed, I overheard the king planning to kill me so that I could not build for other kingdoms. A Persian(I never found out his name, so I just called him Daroga) helped me escape. I met others, but eventually settled down here as an ordinary builder. I helped construct the Opera house, then built my own house on an underground lake. Unfortunately, Daroga followed me to Paris. He has intruded here before."

"What did you do to him?" I asked. We got into a boat on a lake before he continued.

"I pulled him out of my boat before I realized who he was. This is the same boat. I dragged him to shore. I threatened him. Daroga reminded me that he had saved my life once.

I told him that if he intruded again, then I might forget that, for nothing can restrain Erik, not even Erik himself."

"Oh, so now you're speaking in third person again." I said as we arrived on the other shore.

"Yes, it's a habit of mine. Daroga did not believe me when I told him that someone loves me for who I am."

"who?" I asked. We were now in a house. He led me to a sitting room before answering, with his eyes sparkling, "Christine Daae."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"WHAT!?" I yelled. "CHRISTINE IS DUMBER THAN A ROCK!"

Before I could say anything else, I was on the ground, with Erik pointing his sword at my chest. "Beware," He said, "For nothing can restrain Erik, not even Erik himself." He slowly put his sword away. "It would be. . . Unfortunate if I had to dedicate my requiem mass to you, Jamie Redwood."

I stood up. "Come," Said Erik. "I will show you to your living quarters."

Erik opened a door and strode in, beckoning for me to follow. I had a fleeting memory from almost ten years before, of a strange man beckoning for me to follow him. That memory led to another, almost twelve years before, when I was examined by a man with deep, black eyes.

Now I know who that man was.

I followed him into the room. The room was painted black(my favorite color) and everything in the room was black. A small bathroom led off the room. In the corner a black violin lay on a small black table. "Is everything suitable to your convenience?" Asked Erik. es, yes, it's all great!" I said. "But- there isn't a bed."

"Yes, do you want a bed?"

"Well, what else would I sleep in?"

" _I_ sleep in a coffin," Replied Erik, "But if you want me to, I can get you a bed by. . . . Tomorrow night." "Tomorrow night?" I repeated. "Where am I going to sleep tonight?"

Erik shrugged.

"Why can't I have a bed tonight?" I asked.

"I have a meeting with someone." Answered Erik.

I guess I'll just have to sleep on the floor tonight."

Erik shrugged again. "Who are you meeting with?" I asked curiously.

" _That_ is none of your business." Erik said sharply. I turned and examined the room again. I strode over to the violin and looked at it.

"Come with me." Said Erik.

"Wha-Why?"

"Did you not realize," Erik said, smirking, "That it is high time for lunch?"


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

5:00 in the evening

"Come," Said Erik, "Let us go to Box 5."

When we reached the theater, Erik led me into Box 5, then down a secret staircase to a

small compartment under Box 5. It was very small. It also had a window so you could see the Opera.

Throughout the entire production, Erik gazed at Christine. As soon as it ended, he stood up. "I must go to my meeting. You know the way to your room."

And with that he left.

Back in the House on the Lake, I was exploring. There was the sitting room, the dining room, and my room, but there were still others that I hadn't seen.

Right off the sitting room there was a door. Three, actually. One was titled the Louis-Philippe room, another, the torture chamber. Both were locked. The third room was a drawing room. Inside, it looked like a drawing room. But another door was there. Assuming that this was Erik's room, I entered. It was a lot like mine, but he had red hangings and black coffin beneath them. It was a little depressing, but really cool. A giant organ took up an entire wall. A

Small bathroom led off of his room, too. On the organ was a piece of music titled Don Juan Triumphant. I didn't feel to safe in Erik's room, so I decided to leave. Standing in the doorway, I heard a clang behind me. Turning around, I saw a knife sticking out of the floor.

I immediately left for my room.

Back in my room, I pulled some sheets out of a drawer and laid them out in the shape of a bed on the ground. I laid down, but sleep wasn't coming to me, so I went to my bookcase and grabbed The Three Musketeers and started reading.

Two hours later

I tossed and turned on makeshift bed, trying to get comfortable. I just couldn't get to sleep.

Suddenly, I heard Erik singing:

"Nighttime, sharpens, heightens each sensation, darkness, stirs, and wakes imagination, silently the senses, abandon their defenses,"

I smiled and fell asleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

I awoke with my back aching. After getting dressed, I walked to the dining room for breakfast to find Erik already halfway finished eating. "You slept in." Said Erik. I sat down and started buttering some bread.

"Sleep well?" Erik asked, but it sounded more like "'Leep 'ell?" because his mouth was full. "No." I replied sleepily. Erik looked up. I quickly averted my eyes. He swallowed, then said, "Why not?"

"Because I slept on the floor." I said. Erik looked concerned for a moment, then shrugged and continued eating.

"You know," He said between mouthfuls, "I had a spare coffin."

"WHY DIDN'T YOU MENTION THAT BEFORE!?" I yelled, dropping my uneaten piece of bread butter-side down on the floor.

"Hey," Erik said, looking over, "You have to clean that up."

I threw my hands into the air. "You know what? Forget about the bed. Just get me that coffin."

Erik shrugged again and continued eating. Infuriated, I cleaned up the bread. As I sat down to butter some more bread, the Phantom stood up. I saw that instead of his normal dress clothes, he was wearing a dressing gown over silk pajamas. "Why didn't you get dressed?" I asked furiously. "I had to get dressed!"

Erik looked at me. "Who ever said you had to get dressed? I have to go work."

"AAARRGGGHH!"

30 Minutes later

Grumbling, I entered my closet. Upon opening the door that leads to the lobby, I happened to look down. There was a bouquet of flowers right outside my door. I picked it up and placed it my closet.

I would mention it to Erik at dinner. If I forgive him by then. Which I might not. You never know, if I just ignore him, he might buy me a good sword to make it up to me. Or something better. If there is anything better.

Taking off my mask, I applied my make-up and left for work.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Some hours later

I went into the dining room for dinner to find the table set for one.

"Odd." I muttered.

Erik sidled into the room. I gave him a questioning look, and he replied with: "When I am composing, I do not eat nor sleep." He grabbed a pitcher of water and left the room. Starving, I sat down to eat.

3 Hours later

Putting down my book, I sighed. I could hear Erik say loudly,"No! It's not right!" I couldn't concentrate with all this noise. The coffin may be comfortable, but I needed quiet. I left to my closet and fell asleep.

I awoke early and ate with Erik(who apparently was done composing).

That night Erik entered my room with an odd look on his face. "What's wrong?" I asked, looking up from my book. "My box has been sold." He said. "I sent a letter to Poligny and Debienne asking if they showed the new managers my demands."

"And if they didn't?" I asked.

"Then I shall speak with them."

The next night, Erik's box was sold again, and I took on the title of L.D.-Lady Death. We sent Andre and Firmin identical notes that went like this:

Dear Mr. Manager:

 _We are sorry to have to trouble you at a time when you must be so very busy, renewing important engagements, signing fresh ones and generally displaying your excellent taste. We know what you have done for Carlotta, Sorelli and little Jammes and for a few others whose admirable qualities of talent or genius you have suspected._

 _Of course, when we use these words, we do not mean to apply them to La Carlotta, who sings like a squirt and who ought never to have been allowed to leave the ambassadors and the Cafe Jacquin, nor to La Sorelli, who owes her success mainly to the coach-builders, nor to little Jammes, who dances like a calf in a field. And we are not speaking of Christine Daae either, though her genius is certain_

Is not! _Shut up L.D_.

 _Whereas your jealousy prevents her from creating any important part. When all is said, you are free to conduct your little business as you think best, are you not?_

 _All the same, we should like to take advantage of the fact that you have not turned her out of doors by hearing her this evening in the part of Siebel, as that of_

Let me write! _NO_.

 _Margarita has been forbidden her since her triumph of the other evening, and we will ask you not to dispose of our box today nor on the following days,_ _for we cannot_ _end this letter without telling you how disagreeably surprised we have been once or twice, to hear, on arriving at the Opera, that our box had been sold, at the box office, by your orders._

 _We did not protest, first, because we dislike scandal,_

 _You_ dislike scandal. _STOP. WRITING. NOW._

 _And second, because I thought that your predecessors, MM. Poligny and Debienne, who were always charming to me, had neglected,_ _before leaving, to mention my little fads to you._

And mine. _What? You don't have any!_ I do now.

 _I have now received a reply from those gentlemen to our letter asking for an explanation, and this reply proves that you know all about my memorandum-book_

And mine. _You don't have one!_ It's in Andre's office. _WHAT?_

 _And, consequently, that you are treating me with outrageous contempt._

And me!

 _If you wish to live in peace, you must not begin by taking away our private box._

 _Believe us to be, dear Mr. manager, prejudice to these little observations,_

 _your most Humble and Obedient Servants,_

_Opera Ghost_

Lady Death

The letter was accompanied with a cutting from the newspaper, which read:

 _'O.G.-There is no excuse for A. and F. We told them and left your memorandum book in their hands._

 _Kind regards.'_

After sending the letter, Erik turned to me and said, "You have a memorandum book?"

"Of course I do!" I replied.

"What are your demands?"

"Well," I said, "I demand 7,000 francs a month, and that Jamie Redwood gets a raise. Do you realize that I haven't gotten my salary for a long time?!"

Erik just sighed.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The next night our box was open. Erik was pleased and sent Andre and Firmin a note that read:

 _Thanks. Charming evening. Daae exquisite._

Was not! _I_ _thought I_ _told you to STOP WRITING!_

 _Choruses want waking up. Carlotta a splendid commonplace instrument. Will write to you soon for the 240,000 francs, or 233,424 fr. 70 c., to be correct. MM. Poligny and Debienne have sent me the 6,575 fr. 30 c. representing the first ten days of my allowance for the current year, their privileges_ _finished on the evening of the tenth inst._

 _Kind regards,_

 _O.G._

I also sent a note that read:

Thanks. Charming evening. Daae horrible

 _WRITE. SOMETHING. ELSE_! OK, OK.

Thanks. Charming evening. Daae alright. Choruses want waking up. Carlotta does a terrible job at anything she tries. Will write to you soon for the 7,000 francs that represent my first allowance.

Kind regards,

L.D.

I didn't get my maid salary.

Not for the first time, Erik stormed into my room. I looked up from 20,000 Leagues under the Sea to see him fuming.

"What's wrong now?" I asked. "Those two fools have sold our box again!" Erik said angrily. "They'll regret it."

"Ooh, ooh, can I kill someone?" I asked excitedly. "That'll make them regret it!"

Erik glared at me. "No." He said firmly.

I let out a disappointed groan. "But," Said Erik, his eyes glittering, "We can cause some. . . . _Trouble_. "

In the compartment below Box 5

"How are we going to cause trouble here?" I asked impatiently. "Ah," Said Erik, "You have forgotten that I am the greatest ventriloquist that ever lived." I sighed. We had sat here for almost an hour, and I was almost done with my book. "I shall whisper in their ears," He continued, "And from that you may get a lesson in ventriloquism.

The Opera started. Erik grinned evilly(at least, I think he did, it was hard to tell because of his mask) and turned away from the little window.

Later he told me that he had only said things like 'this box is taken', but I didn't quite believe him.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

"Jamie, I'm going on a trip."

I opened my eyes and slowly sat up, peering over the edge of the _Nautilus_. That's what I painted on the side of my coffin. I'll probably change it next week.

"Wha' was that?" I asked, rubbing my eyes. "I'm going on a trip." Erik repeated.

"With Christine?" I asked, my eyebrows raised.

Erik shot me a look that plainly said If-you-ask-that-again-I-will-have-to-dedicate-my-requiem-mass-to-you. I rolled my eyes and got out of my coffin. "Can I come?" I asked.

"No." Erik said. "Why not?" I whined in the most irritating way I could.

Erik shot me that look again. I want to learn that look.

"Can I kill Carlotta while you're gone?"

"No."

"Piangi?"

"No."

"Meg?"

"No."

"Why-" I started to whine, but caught myself just in time. Erik smirked.

When Erik got back a couple days later, he slammed the front door behind him. As he stormed past me, I heard him muttering things like, "Curse him, the fool!" On that moment, I decided not to bother him about the box of chocolates I had found outside my closet. Two hours later Erik walked into my room. For the first time in twelve years, our eyes met. Erik held up a piece of paper and two pens. Wordlessly we sat down at my desk and started to write.

 _My dear Managers:_

 _So it is to be war between us?_

 _If you still care for peace, here is our ultimatum. It consists of the four following conditions:_

 _1\. You must give us back our private box; and we wish it to be at our free disposal from henceforward,_

 _2\. The part of Margarita shall be sung this evening by Christine Daae_

NO!

 _Never mind_ _about Carlotta; she will be ill_

YES!

 _3\. I_ _absolutely_ _insist upon the good and loyal services of Mme. Giry, my box-keeper, whom you will reinstate in her functions forthwith_

Wait- Mme. Giry was fired?!

 _4\. Let me know by a letter handed to Mme. Giry, who will see that it reaches me, that you accept, as your predecessors did, the conditions in my memorandum-book_

And mine!

 _Relating to my monthly allowance. I will inform you later how you are going to pay it to me. If you refuse, you will give Faust tonight in a house with a curse on it._

 _Take our advance and be warned in time._

 _O.G_. L. D.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

After I mailed the letter, I came back to find Erik unsaddling a white horse. "Erik," I scolded, "Where did you get that horse?"

Erik looked up at me and grinned mischievously. "From the stable." He said obviously.

"Well, yeah," I said, rolling my eyes, "But did you ask?"

"No, no I did not." He said, smiling.

2 days later

I lay in my coffin, reading Les Miserables and thoroughly enjoying it. Eventually I stopped. Erik had been out doing something or other, but now I heard the front door shut. I peered out of my room to see Erik, leading a frightened Christine Daae!

I let out a small gasp and he looked up. Erik then started waving his arms wildly and mouthing the word "Go!" over and over again. Taking the hint, I slipped into my room before Christine saw me.

Now I know why Erik had covered the sitting room with flowers.

Fifteen minutes later I went into Erik's room, about to yell at him to find him writing a note.

 _My dear Christine,_

 _you need have no concern as to your fate._

 _You have no better nor more respectful_

 _friend in the world than myself. You are_

 _alone_

Are not.

 _At present, in this home which is yours._

 _I am going out shopping to fetch you all_

 _the things that you can need._

Erik asked me to put this note in the Louis-Philippe room(where Christine was), and when I got back, he was gone. When Erik returned, his arms laden with packages, he went straight to the Louis-Philippe/Christine's room. I silently slipped in behind him. As Erik lay the packages on her bed, Christine started yelling at him, trying to get him to take off his mask. All Erik said was, "You shall never see Erik's face." For the first time, Christine noticed me. "And who are you?" She demanded. "Why don't you recognize-" I started. Suddenly I realized that I was wearing my mask. "Umm. . . . I'm . . . . Cossete!" I wildly invented. "Really?" Said Christine, raising her eyebrows. "Okay, I'm Jamie. And you shall never see Jamie's face."

Erik told Christine to meet him for lunch in half an hour, and she slammed the door in his face. At lunch, Christine asked Erik what his nationality was and if the name Erik did not point to his Scandinavian origin. Erik answered that he had no name nor country and came upon the name of Erik by accident. After lunch, Erik offered Christine his fingertips, but as soon as she touched them she cried out and drew her hand away.

"Oh, forgive me!" Erik moaned. It was to much for me. I left to the sitting room.

To sit.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Eventually I heard singing coming from the drawing room. I sneaked up and listened at the door. The two were singing the duet from Othello. Suddenly, there was a horrible cry of grief and rage, and it came from Erik. He started mad, incoherent words and curses.

I heard him cry, "Look! You wanted to see! See! Feast your eyes, glut your soul on my cursed ugliness! Look at Erik's face! Now you know the face of the voice! You were not content to hear me, eh? You wanted to know what I looked like! Oh, you women are so inquisitive! Well, are you satisfied? I'm a very good-looking fellow, eh?. . . When a woman has seen me, as you have, she belongs to me. She loves me forever. I am a kind of Don Juan, you know!" I couldn't imagine how scared Christine must have been. All I could do was wait for him to calm down. Then Erik roared, "Look at me! _I am Don Juan Triumphant!_

"No! Please!" Christine begged.

"Ah, I frighten you do I?" Erik hissed. ". . . I dare say! . . . Perhaps you think that I have another mask, eh, this. . . this. . . my head is a mask? Well," He roared, "Tear it off as you did the other! Come! Come along! I insist! Your hands! Give me your hands!"

I cringed, suddenly very glad that Erik didn't know I was listening.

"Know," Erik shouted, "Know that I am built up of death from head to foot and that it is a corpse that loves you and adores you and will never, never leave you! . . . Look, I am not laughing now, I am crying, crying for you, Christine, who have torn off my mask and who therefore can never leave me again! . . . As long as you thought me handsome, you could have come back, I know you would have come back. . . but, now that you know my hideousness you would run away for good. . . so I shall keep you here! . . . Why did you want to see me? Oh, mad Christine who wanted to see me! . . . When my own father never saw me and when my mother, so as not to see me, made me a present of my first mask!"

I heard the sound of Erik dragging himself on the floor, and I could hear his terrible sobs. He left the room, crawling like like a snake, and into his own room. Thankfully, he didn't notice me. I heard music, and assumed that Erik had turned to Don Juan Triumphant. The music was so beautiful and sad that there are no words to describe it. I looked into the drawing room

to see Christine with a look of horror upon her face, still holding Erik's mask. She took a deep breath and walked into Erik's room. I followed her. When we entered, Erik stood, but did not turn to us.

"Erik," Christine cried, "Show me your face without fear! I swear that you are the most

unhappy and sublime of men; and, if ever again I shiver when I look at you, it will be because I am thinking of the splendor of your genius!"

I was impressed. That was pretty convincing. But when Erik turned around, I winced and looked away. His face was much worse than mine.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

For the next fortnight, Christine stayed with us. She made me mad, because I believe

she was lying to him, but I also felt relieved, because it kept Erik happy. She even went as far as to burn his mask. When the two weren't singing, Erik tried to catch her eye, like a dog sitting by his master. He was Christine's faithful slave and paid her endless little attentions. After fourteen long days, Christine left, with the promise to return. She and Erik planned to go to the Masked Ball together. I decided right then and there that I wasn't going. Finally I asked Erik what had happened at _Faust_ that one night.

"Oh," He said, "Carlotta croaked, the chandelier fell, and your secret admirer mysteriously died."

"You mean the person who keeps leaving things outside my door?"

"The very same."

"Who?" I asked.

"Joseph Buquet." Erik said, smirking.

"GROSS!" I yelled and ran to my room. One day I wrote a note to the managers:

Dear Mr. Managers,

Jamie Redwood has not received her salary in one month. I am holding a ballerina

hostage until she gets it and I get my 7,000 francs.

L.D.

Ballerinas are so annoying.

Every time I walked into my room, the ballerina named Mag who I keep tied up in the corner would scream, "IT'S THE MURDERER!"

I have no idea why. Really.

One day while mopping the lobby of the Opera house, the front door opened and in walked Remus Debienne. "Oh!" I said, blushing, "M'sieur Debienne. Are you here for the Opera tonight?"

"Um, no." He said, looking awkward. "I came to ask you. . . um. . ."

"Ask me what?"

"To ask you out."

"Wha-okay." I answered nervously. "When?" "Whenever you want to." He said.

"Tonight's good."

He grinned. "I'll pick you up at six."

That night when I got home, Erik waved cheerily at me, then went to his room. I liked this Erik better than the old one, but there was something wrong about him.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

At one point, I noticed that Christine and Raoul were acting like two lovers, but Christine still wore the plain gold ring Erik had given her. About a week later, After a third date with Remus, I heard Raoul declare, "I shan't go to the North Pole!"

My broom clattered to the floor.

Both Christine and Raoul turned to look at me.

"Sorry." I muttered. I left the broom there and started running to Erik. Looking over my

Shoulder, I saw Christine pale. She had recognized me, and knew where I was now going.

"Erik-" I said, gasping for breath, "Raoul- j-just said- that-that- _he's not going to the North_ _Pole_!"

Erik's head shot up. "Christine will be coming tomorrow." He said. "We can ask her what's going on."

Apparently Erik was happy with Christine's answer(I wouldn't know, I was 'at a meeting'). But he still followed Christine and Raoul. I was tired of Erik's love affair. Now I rarely went to the House on the Lake. I just stayed in my closet. Normally after following the lovebirds, he would go through my closet to get home.

But this night, he didn't come at his normal time. I fell asleep waiting for him.

I awoke to horrible groans.

Opening my eyes, I could vaguely see Erik stagger into the room. I blinked to clear my eyes, and I saw blood dripping from his leg. But his groans were not from pain, they were from grief.

"Erik!" I cried out. "What happened?"

"No. . . . No. . . ." Erik moaned. "Christine. . . is leaving. . . with. . .him."

"I meant your leg- and _your head!_ "

"Wha. . . ."

"Erik, you're hurt." I said. "Sit down!" Erik stood there for a moment, then crumpled to the ground. I rushed towards him. His leg didn't look to bad, but his forehead. . . .

There was a bullet sticking halfway out of his head, but his mask had prevented it from going all the way through. I ripped the hem off of my dress, carefully removed the bullet, then wrapped his head in the hem. I then did the same to his leg. When I touched his blood, I started to feel slightly sick. I wondered how his mask had stopped the bullet. But I didn't have that sort of time.

"Jamie." Erik muttered in his sleep.

I stood up to find that I was shaking.

I paced my closet, wondering how much blood Erik had lost on his way over, but I didn't want to leave him alone.

Then I remembered Mag.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

"IT'S THE MURDERER!"

"Mag, come with me."

I took her to Erik. "Mag, stay with this man. When I return, tell me anything he said."

I had taken care to replace Erik's mask, so Mag wouldn't freak out.

I followed the trail of blood through the lobby(mopping as I went so that nobody else would freak out also) and out the front door. It went down a street and on that street up a water spout of a house.

Raoul's house.

I suddenly understood everything.

Erik had heard Raoul and Christine planning to leave together, then, with a broken heart, followed Raoul home to murder him. Raoul saw his glowing eyes at the end of his bed(a trick Erik had played on me many times) and shot. Erik went to the balcony, and, in a struggle to get up the water pipe, hit his leg on the wall. He then climbed down the pipe on the

other side of the building, and made his way to the Opera house.

I then realized that it was pouring rain, and probably had been for a few minutes. And then, very suddenly, I threw up. Why, I don't know. But I think it may have had something to do with touching Erik's blood.

And the fact that it was pouring rain.

Or maybe that I was really worried.

Or something else that made absolutely no sense.

I didn't really care at that moment.

I only cared about what I would find when I got home.

I barged into my room to find Mag, alone, reading a book that she had produced from nowhere. I didn't know that Mag knew how to read.

"WHERE'S ERIK!?" I yelled.

"Who?" Mag said. "Oh, you mean that freaky guy? He got up a while ago, and staggered through that secret door." I immediately ran through the passage, calling his name as I went. I found him at the shore of the underground lake, trying to climb into the boat.

I took him to my closet, and he stayed there all night. And all day. Finally, at five in the

evening, he got up. "Where are you going?" I asked. "To the Opera." Erik said, a mad gleam in his eyes.

Later, in the compartment below Box 5, I waited. The Opera was going to start in five minutes, and Erik still wasn't there. Halfway through the Opera, Christine started to falter, then she looked at the door, then she turned to Raoul and started to sing her heart out.

Then the lights went out.

When they came back on, Christine was gone.

And I knew who did it.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Running past the manager's office, Andre burst out of it. "Have you a safety pin?" He shouted at someone.

"No!"

"Well, then, clear out! A SAFETY PIN! GIVE ME A SAFETY PIN AT ONCE!"

I quickly gave him one and kept running. I ran through the lobby(with a dirty look from the butler), into my closet, and through the passage. I rowed across the lake, went through the front door, and stood, listening to Erik and Christine while standing at the door of the drawing room.

"I have invented a mask that makes me look like anybody." Erik was saying. "People will not even turn round in the streets. You will be the happiest of women. And we will sing, all by ourselves, till we swoon away with delight. You are crying! You are afraid of me! And yet I am not really wicked. Love me and you shall see! All I wanted was to be loved for myself. If you loved me I should be as gentle as a lamb, and you could do anything with me that you pleased."

There was horrible moaning, and I realized that the moans were coming from Erik himself.

Erik wailed three times: "You don't love me! You don't love me! You don't love me!"

And then, more gentle,

"Why do you cry? You know it gives me pain to see you cry!" A long silence. Then ringing filled the air.

Erik bellowed, "Someone ringing! Walk in, please!" A sinister chuckle. "Who has come bothering now?" He said. "Wait for me here. . . . _I am going to tell the siren to open the door."_ I jumped into the dining room as Erik limped by. I heard Christine having a conversation with Raoul and the Persian(who for some reason were in the torture-chamber). Then Erik returned. Slowly he limped into the drawing room, and I resumed my place next to the door. There was a tremendous sigh, followed by a cry of horror from Christine, and I heard Erik's voice. "I beg your pardon for letting you see a face like this! What a state I am in, am I not? It's _the other one's fault!_ Why did he ring? Do _I_ ask people who pass to tell me the time? He will never ask anybody the time again! It is the siren's fault."

Another deep sigh. "Why did you cry out, Christine?"

"Because I am in pain, Erik."

"I thought I had frightened you."

"Erik, unloose my bonds. . . . Am I not your prisoner?"

"You will try to kill yourself again."

"You have given me until eleven o'clock tomorrow evening, Erik."

The footsteps dragged across the floor again.

"After all, as we are to die together . . . and I am just as eager as you . . . yes, I have had enough of this life, you know. . . . Wait, don't move, I will release you. . . . You have just one word to say: ' _No!_ ' And it will at once be over _with everybody!_. . . You are right, you are right; why wait until eleven o'clock tomorrow evening? True, it would have been grander, finer.

. . . But this is childish nonsense. . . . We should only think of ourselves in this life, of our own death . . . the rest doesn't matter. . . . _You're looking at me because I am all wet?_. . . Oh, my dear, it's raining cats and dogs outside! . . . Apart from that, Christine, I think I am subject to hallucinations. . . . You know, the man who rang at the siren's door just now-go and look if he's ringing at the bottom of the lake-well, he was rather like. . . . There, turn round . . . are you glad? You're free now. . . . Oh, my poor Christine, look at your wrists: tell me, have I hurt them? . . . That alone deserves death. . . . Talking of death, _I must sing his requiem!"_

I became frightened. Was Erik sane, or not? I wondered what poor fool had strayed to

the lake, the man whose requiem I was hearing now? Erik sang like thunder. Then his voice stopped so suddenly that I jumped, and Erik growled,

 _"What have you done with my bag?"_


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

"What have you done with my bag?" Erik repeated angrily. "So it was to take my bag that you asked me to release you!" I heard hurried steps, like Christine was trying to get away from him.

"What are you running away for?" Asked the furious voice of Erik, which had followed her. "Give me back my bag, will you? Don't you know that it is the bag of life and death?"

I gasped. I had never touched the bag before, I had been forbidden to.

But Erik was talking again. "You know there are only two keys in it. What are you to do?"

"I want to look at this room which I have never seen and which you have always kept from me. . . . It's woman's curiosity!" She said, trying to sound playful, but this didn't work.

"I don't like curious women," he retorted, "And you had better remember the story of _Blue-Beard_ and be careful. . . . Come, give me back my bag! . . . Give me back my bag! . . . Leave the key alone, will you, you inquisitive little thing?"

Erik chuckled as Christine gave a cry of pain. He had evidently recovered the bag. Then there was a cry of rage that came from neither of them. My immediate thought was the abandoned ferret that Erik had found and trained, but then I remembered Raoul and the Persian.

"Why, what's that? Did you hear that, Christine?"

"No, no," She replied. "I heard nothing."

"I thought I heard a cry."

"A cry! Are you going mad, Erik? Whom do you expect to give a cry, in this house? . . . I cried out, because you hurt me! I heard nothing."

"I don't like the way you said that! . . . You're trembling. . . . You're quite excited. . . . You're lying! . . . That was a cry, there was a cry! . . . There is someone in the torture-chamber! . . . Ah, I understand now!"

"There is no one there, Erik!"

"I understand!"

"No one!"

"The man you want to marry, perhaps!"

"I don't want to marry anybody, you know I don't."

Another nasty chuckle from Erik. "Well, it won't take long to find out. Christine, my love, we need not open the door to see what is happening in the torture-chamber. Would you like to see? Would you like to see? Look here! If there is someone, if there is really someone there, you will see the invisible window light up at the top, near the ceiling. We need only draw

the black curtain and put out the light in here. There, that's it. . . . Let's put out the light! You're not afraid of the dark, when you're with your little husband!"

Christine was crying that she was frightened. I sat in dumb horror. What in Paris was wrong with Erik? I heard something from inside the torture-chamber, and Erik roared, "I told you there was someone! Do you see the window now? The lighted window, right up there? The man behind the wall can't see it! But you shall go up the folding steps: that is what they are for! . . . You have often asked me to tell you; and now you know! . . . They are there to give a peep into the torture-chamber . . . you inquisitive little thing!"

I stopped listening. Poor, poor Erik, driven mad with a broken heart! I sat there for a while, then realized that they were still talking.

"What did you see?" Erik was saying.

"I saw a forest."

"And what is in a forest?"

"Trees."

"And what is in a tree?"

"Birds."

"Did you see any birds?"

"No, I did not see any birds."

I covered my ears. I didn't want to know how the torture-chamber worked. When I thought it was safe, I uncovered my ears. Erik now was saying:

"Here, shall I show you some card tricks? That will help us to pass a few minutes, while waiting for eleven o'clock tomorrow evening. . . . My dear little Christine! . . . Are you listening to me? . . . Tell me you love me! . . . No, you don't love me . . . but no matter, you will!

. . . Once, you could not look at my mask because you knew what was behind. . . . And now you don't mind looking at it and you forget what is behind! . . . One can get used to everything

. . . if one wishes. . . . Plenty of young people who did not care for each other before marriage

have adored each other ever since! Oh, I don't know what I am talking about! But you would have lots of fun with me. For instance, I am the greatest ventriloquist that ever lived, I am the first ventriloquist in the world! . . . You're laughing. . . . Perhaps you don't believe me? Listen."

I knew it was just to divert Christine's attention from the torture-chamber. But, from what Christine was saying, it didn't seem to be working. "Put out the light in the window! . . . Erik, do put out the light in the window!"

But Erik had already begun to play ventriloquist.

"Here, I raise my mask a little. . . . Oh, only a little! . . . You see my lips, such lips as I have? They're not moving! . . . My mouth is closed-such mouth as I have-and yet you hear my

voice. . . . Where will you have it? In your left ear? In your right ear? In the table? In those little ebony boxes on the mantelpiece? . . . Listen, dear, it's in the little box on the right of the mantelpiece: what does it say? _'Shall I turn the scorpion?'_ . . . And now, crack! What does it say in the little box on the left? _'Shall I turn the grasshopper?'_. . . And now, crack! Here it is in the little leather bag. . . . What does it say? _'I am the little bag of life and death!'_. . . And now, crack! It is in Carlotta's throat, Carlotta's golden throat, Carlotta's crystal throat, as I live! What

does it say? It says, 'It's I, Mr. Toad, it's I singing! _I feel without alarm-coack-with its melody_ _en_ _t_ _wind me-coack!' . . ._ And now, crack! Aha! Where is Erik's voice now? Listen, Christine, darling! Listen! It is behind the door of the torture-chamber! Listen! It's myself in the torture-chamber! And what do I say? I say, 'Woe to them that have a nose, a real nose, and come to look round the torture-chamber! Aha, aha, aha!"

He stopped as Christine said, "Erik! Erik! You tire me with your voice. Don't go on, Erik! Isn't it very hot here?" "Oh, yes," said Erik matter-of-factually. "The heat is unendurable!"

"But what does this mean? . . . The wall is really getting quite hot! . . . The wall is burning! . . ." "I'll tell you Christine, dear: it is because of the forest next door."

"Well, what has that to do with it? The forest?"

"Why, didn't you see that it was an African forest?"

His laughter drowned out the sound of me running to my room.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

I hid in my coffin, hoping that Erik wouldn't find me. I lay reading Sherlock Holmes until almost eleven o'clock the next evening. Then, I waited until I heard Erik limping past my room, and sneaked out after him.

I followed him into the room, and Christine noticed me, even if Erik didn't. He went up to Christine and stood in silence.

Then from inside the torture-chamber, we heard the Persian's voice: "Erik! It is I! Do you know me?"

With extraordinary calmness, he at once replied. "So you are not dead in there? Well, then, see that you keep quiet." The Persian tried to speak, but Erik said coldly, "Not a word, Daroga, or I shall blow everything up." And he added, "The honor rests with mademoiselle. . . . Mademoiselle has not touched the scorpion"-how deliberately he spoke!- "Mademoiselle has not touched the grasshopper"-with that composure!-"But it is not too late to do the right thing. There,, I open the caskets without a key, for I am a trap-door lover and I open and shut what I please and as I please. I open the little ebony caskets: mademoiselle, look at the little dears inside. Aren't they pretty? If you turn the grasshopper, mademoiselle, we shall all be blown up. There is enough gunpowder under our feet to blow up a whole quarter of Paris. If you turn the scorpion, mademoiselle, all that powder will be soaked and drowned. Mademoiselle, to celebrate our wedding, you shall make a very handsome present to a few hundred Parisians who are at this moment applauding a poor masterpiece of Meyerbeer's . . . you shall make them a present of their lives. . . . For, with your own fair hands, you shall turn the scorpion. . . . And merrily, merrily, we will be married!"

A pause, and then: "If, in two minutes, mademoiselle, you have not turned the scorpion, I shall turn the grasshopper . . . and the grasshopper, I tell you, _hops jolly high!"_

A terrible silence, in which I started shaking. At last, Erik said,

"The two minutes are past. . . . Goodbye, mademoiselle. . . . Hop, grasshopper! . . ."

"Erik!" Cried Christine, "Do you swear to me, monster, do you swear to me that the scorpion is the one to turn? . . ."

"Yes, to hop to our wedding."

"Ah, you see! You said to hop!"

"At our wedding, you ingenious child! . . . The scorpion opens the ball. . . . But that will do! . . . You won't have the scorpion? Then I turn the grasshopper!"

"Erik!" I cried out.

"Enough!"

I didn't want to die. I was running towards the doorway when Christine burst out,

"Erik! I have turned the scorpion!"

Then I fell to the ground and saw no more.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

I awoke. On the floor. In the Louis-Philippe room. And my head ached horribly.

Erik leaned over me. He was blurry around the edges. "Jamie," He said, his voice echoing, "You are very ill. I am sending you with Daroga. Do you hear me? I am sending you with Daroga."

Erik's masked face became more and more blurry, until finally, he wasn't there at all. In fact, the room wasn't there either.

And, very suddenly, things came back into focus, except I was in a different, with Daroga's servant leaning over me. I stayed at that house for some time, and one day, Darius(the servant) walked in announcing the visit of a stranger who refused his name, who would not show his face and declared simply that he did not intend to leave the place until he had spoken to the Daroga.

"Show him in." The Persian said.

Erik came in, looking extremely weak and leaning against the wall. Taking of his hat, he revealed a forehead as white as wax, with a small scar in the middle. The rest of his face was hidden by a mask.

The Persian rose to his feet as Erik entered. "Murderer of Count Philippe, what have you done with his brother and Christine Daae?"

Erik staggered under this direct attack, then dragged himself into a chair and heaved a deep sigh. Speaking in short phrases and gasping for breath between words, he said:

"Daroga, don't talk to me . . . about Count Philippe. . . . He was dead . . . by the time . . . I left my house . . . he was dead . . . when . . . the siren sang. . . . It was an . . . accident . . . a sad . . . a very sad . . . accident. He fell very awkwardly . . . but simply and naturally . . . into the lake! . . ."

"You lie!" The Persian shouted.

Erik bowed his head and said:

"I have not come here . . . to talk about Count Philippe . . . but to tell you that . . . I am going . . . to die. . . ."

"Where are Raoul de Chagny and Christine Daae?"

"I am going to die. . . ."

"Raoul de Chagny and Christine Daae?"

"Of love . . . Daroga . . . I am dying . . . of love. . . . That is how it is. . . . I loved her so! . . . And I love her still . . . Daroga . . . and I am dying of love for her, I . . . I tell you! . . . If you knew how beautiful she was . . . when she let me kiss her . . . alive. . . . It was the first . . . time, Daroga, the first . . . time I ever kissed a woman. . . . Yes, alive. . . . I kissed her alive . . . and she looked as beautiful as if she had been dead! . . ."

The Persian shook Erik by the arm, saying, "Will you tell me if she is alive or dead."

"Why do you shake me like that?" Asked Erik, making an effort to speak more connected. "I tell you that I am going to die. . . . Yes, I kissed her alive. . . ."

"And now is she dead?"

"I tell you I kissed her just like that, on her forehead . . . and she did not draw back her forehead from my lips! . . . Oh, she is a good girl! . . . As to her being dead, I don't think so; but it has nothing to do with me. . . . No, no, she is not dead! And no one shall touch a hair of her head! She is a good, honest girl, and she saved your life, Daroga, at a moment when I would not have given twopence for your Persian skin. As a matter of fact, nobody bothered about you. Why were you there with that little chap? You would have died as well as he! My word, how she entreated me for her little chap! But I told her that, as she had turned the scorpion, she had, through that very fact, and of her own free will, become engaged to me and that she did not need to have two men engaged to her, which is true enough. As for you, you did not exist, I tell you, and you were going to die with the other! . . ."

I felt myself dozing off. I struggled to keep awake but failed. A few minutes later, I woke. Erik now was saying,

"Then I came back to Christine. She was waiting for me. . . ."

Erik here rose solemnly. Then he continued, but, as he spoke, he was overcome by all his former emotion and began to tremble like a leaf:

"Yes, she was waiting for me . . . waiting for me erect and alive, a real, living bride . . . as she hoped to be saved. . . . And, when I . . . came forward, more timid than . . . a little child, she did not run away . . . no, no . . . she stayed . . . she waited for me. . . . I even believe . . . Daroga . . . that she put out her forehead . . . a little . . . oh, not much . . . just a little . . . like a living bride. . . . And . . . and . . . I . . . kissed her! . . . I! . . . I! . . . I! . . . And she did not die! . . . Oh, how good it is, Daroga, to kiss somebody on the forehead! . . . You can't tell! . . . But I! I! . . . My mother, Daroga, my poor unhappy mother would never . . . let me kiss her. . . . She used to run away . . . and throw me my mask! . . . Nor any other woman . . . ever, ever! . . . Ah, you can understand, my happiness was so great, I cried. And I fell at her feet, crying . . . and I kissed her feet . . . her little feet . . . crying. You're crying too, Daroga . . . and she cried also . . . the angel cried! . . ."

Erik sobbed aloud, and the Persian and I could not retain our tears in the presence of that masked man, who, with his shoulders shaking and his hands clutched at his chest, was moaning with pain and love by turns.

"Yes, Daroga . . . Jamie . . . I felt her tears flow on my forehead . . . on mine, mine! . . . They were soft . . . They were sweet! . . . They trickled under my mask . . . they mingled with my tears in my eyes . . . they flowed between my lips. . . . Listen, Daroga, listen to what I did. . . . I tore off my mask so as not to lose one of her tears . . . and she did not run away! . . . And she did not die! . . . She remained alive, weeping over me, with me. We cried together! I have tasted all the happiness the world can offer!"

And Erik fell into a chair, choking for breath:

"Ah, I am not going to die yet . . . presently I shall . . . but let me cry! . . . Listen, Daroga . . . Jamie . . . Listen to this. . . . While I was at her feet . . . I heard her say, 'Poor, unhappy Erik!' . . . _And she took my hand!_ . . . I had become no more, you know, than a poor dog ready to die for her. . . . I mean it, Daroga! . . . I held in my hand a ring, a plain gold ring which I had given her . . . which she had lost . . . and which I had found again . . . a wedding-ring, you know. . . . I slipped it into her little hand and said, 'There! . . . Take it! . . . Take it for you . . . and him! . . . It shall be my wedding-present . . . a present from your poor, unhappy Erik. . . . I know you love the boy . . . don't cry anymore!' . . . She asked me, in a very soft voice, what I meant. . . . Then I made her understand that, where she was concerned, I was only a poor dog, ready to die for her . . . but that she could marry the young man when she pleased, because she had cried with me and mingled her tears with mine! . . ."

Erik's emotion was now so great that he had to tell the Persian and I not to look at him, for he was choking and must take off his mask. Daroga went to the window and opened it. I followed him. My heart was full of pity, but I took care to keep my eyes on the trees in the gardens, lest I should see Erik's monstrous face.

"I went and released the young man," Erik continued, "And told him to come with me to Christine. . . . They kissed before me in the Louis-Philippe room. . . . Christine had my ring. . . . I made Christine swear to come back, one night, when I was dead, crossing the lake from the Rue-Scribe side, and bury me in the greatest secrecy with the gold ring, which she was to wear until that moment. . . . I told her where she would find my body and what to do with it. . . . Then Christine kissed me, for the first time, herself, here, on the forehead-don't look, Jamie!-Here, on the forehead . . . on my forehead, mine-don't look, Daroga!-And they went off together. . . . Christine had stopped crying. . . . I alone cried. . . . Daroga, Jamie, if Christine keeps her promise, she will come back soon! . . .:"

The Persian asked him no questions, and, presently, the Phantom resumed his mask.

I myself couldn't stop crying. One of the only people who cared about me, one of the only people who I cared about, was about to die!

This was uncalled for!

I ran outside, to where Erik was getting into his cab.

"No!" I cried out. "I need you, you're my brother!"

Erik smiled sadly. "I'm glad you believed me. Goodbye, Jamie. I'm sure you know I care about you."

He turned to the driver and said, "Go to the Opera." And the cab drove off into the night.

Three weeks later, the _Epoqu_ _e_ this advertisement:

 _"Erik is dead."_


	23. Chapter 23

The End of the Ghost's Love Story

So, that is my brother's tale.

Do I believe he is dead?

No, I do not.

One night, three years later, I went back to the House on the Lake. There were fresh, limping footprints in the thick layer of dust on the floor, and in Erik's room there was a small piece of music on the organ, titled:

'Jamie's Mass'.

And lying in my room was a rose.

A rose with a black ribbon.

Maybe I'll see him again, maybe I won't. But I know I'll always love him.

My brother, the monster.


	24. Epilogue

Epilogue

"Mother! Erik has begun to walk!" Came Peregrin's yell.

I ran to the scene to find my fourth child toddling towards me. He was the only child out of all of them who had inherited Erik's eyes.

I thought it was sort of cool.

My husband, Remus, thought it was sort of creepy.

My two twins, James and Jenny, resemble me quite a lot. They are six years old.

My oldest, Peregrin, resembles his father quite a lot. He is ten years old.

And then Erik, who is almost one. He has Remus' dark brown hair, and my glow-in-the-dark eyes.

All of the children have slight scars over their right eyebrows, but Erik's is more noticeable and goes down over his eye. I've told the children stories about their Uncle Erik.

They all wish they could meet him.

Who knows? Maybe thy will.

 **The End**

. . . . Or is it?


End file.
